


The Heart Wants What It Wants

by kissesfromkrug



Series: 5 + 1 [10]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 19:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesfromkrug/pseuds/kissesfromkrug
Summary: Without Connor there, Dylan doesn't really have a filter. For anything. Including his alcohol intake. More like "especially" his alcohol intake.Or, 5 times Dylan admitted that he loved Connor while drunk, and the 1 time he did it sober.





	The Heart Wants What It Wants

**Author's Note:**

> Not for profit, fictional; feel free to point out any typos (I make too many). :)
> 
> Title taken from the song of the same name. 
> 
> Let me know if there should be any more tags.

• 1 •

"I love you, Davo," Dylan giggles, falling back onto his bed with a soft thump. 

"I know you do," Connor replies, tucking an ankle under him as he stares out his bedroom window. 

"No, like,  _really_ love you."

"Dyls, I know you do, but you're drunk and tired and you need to get some sleep for your game tomorrow." Connor's eyes track a shooting star in the night sky, silently wishing that Dylan was being honest. 

"You know I have a game?" He asks happily. "Are you a stalker, Davo?" If he was there, Dylan would've poked Connor until he fell on the floor and surrendered.

"You sent me the calendar, of course I know your games," Connor says tiredly. "You know all of mine, too."

"Hey, not everyone's a super NHL captain," Dylan reminds him, "Everyone knows everything about you." He clicks his tongue and laughs about it as he folds his pillow around his head and rolls on his side.

"Davo!" Taylor calls from the kitchen, and Connor sighs. "Need a little help here, so if you'd just - ah, fuck - _Connor_!"

"I gotta go, Dyls, Hallsy's forgetting how to be an adult again." Dylan pouts as he pulls his knees up to his chest. 

"But Davo, aren't I more important?" He whines. Even though it's just teasing, Connor feels his heart sink. 

"Yeah, of course you are, but I gotta-"

"Call me before my game tomorrow, 'kay, Davo?" Dylan interrupts, his playful tone having faded a bit. Alcohol can't rob you of everything.

"I will, I promise."

"Go show Hallsy how to adult like a real adult," Dylan giggles again, and if he was there -  _god_ , if only he was there - he'd probably shove Connor off the bed and laugh about it. Maybe he'd ask about Connor's collarbone, maybe not; depends on the day. 

"Skype or call?" Connor confirms, and he hears Taylor shout even louder for him, sounding legitimately worried. "Text me about it and when you're done with practice," he rushes out. "Bye, Dyls."

"I love you, best buddy," Dylan grins into the phone, and Connor's heart clenches as he hangs up and investigates what kitchen disaster has befallen Taylor this time. 

• 2 •

"Davooooo!" Connor winces and turns down the volume on his computer. 

"Shh, some people are actually trying to sleep in this neighborhood."

"Don't give a shit 'bout them!" Dylan beams, multiple empty beer bottles on his desk in the background. 

"Why don't you go out with the boys for drinks?" He asks, automatically getting jealous at the thought.  _Fuck off,_ his brain tells him in a scold.  _He's allowed to have more fucking friends than just you._

"Wanted talk t'you more n' them." Connor neglects to point out that Dylan did the drinking, then called Connor - again, by the way. Like they hadn't spoken mere hours beforehand. 

"Good game tonight," Connor says honestly. "Saw everything." 

"Everything?" 

"That's what I said."

"Oh, Davo, I love you so much, you're such a loyal fan, you're so great," Dylan rambles, and even though Connor knows he doesn't mean it, he feels his cheeks heat up and stomach flip. 

"Number 1 fan, eh?"

"You're my number 1 fan?" Dylan chirps excitedly, staring up at the ceiling as he sags even further into his mound of pillows. "Boy, 'm I lucky. Must be pretty good at my job if I get someone like you." 

"Don't let it get to you," Connor says, a warning in his words but a smile on his lips. "You're not that good."

"This is - it's unacceptable, number 1 fan, I refuse to be treated like-like the not-best! Take it back!" Connor only laughs at the slurred words, watching as Dylan throws his head back and does the same. Connor most certainly does not memorize the column of his pale throat and commit it to memory, nor does he catalogue every mark on Dylan's face and have a sudden desire to run his thumb over every one and tell Dylan he's perfect. Absolutely not. 

"Go to sleep, Dyls," he says, meeting Dylan's eyes through the grainy Skype connection. Connor's heart leaps as Dylan grins lazily at him. 

" _You_ go sleep."

"I said it first." Dylan shakes his head, the smile not having left his face once. "Why're you so happy? I mean, besides the game and alcohol and all."

"I get talk t'you all the time," he answers, the screen shaking as Dylan sets his computer on the pillow. "I'm so special." 

"You sure are," Connor agrees with a chuckle. Dylan rolls on his back, and Connor can just make out the outline of his face in the dim light.

"Miss you." Connor squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, biting his lip as he tries not to tell Dylan how much he's missed too. "Miss you a whole fuckin' lot."

"I know," he says instead. "Wish we were still tearing it up together."

"You doin' good there," Dylan reassures him, wriggling around so he's right side up on Connor's computer screen. "Don't need me, but I miss you."

"Of course I need you."

"Yeah?" Dylan's hazy eyes are suddenly full of hope as he leans closer, and Connor nods, trying to smile for him.

"Course I do." 

• 3 •

_D: txt me 2nite_

Connor can't stop thinking about the message as he sets down his suitcase in the hotel room. He proceeds to trip over a chair just as Ryan unlocks the door. "Don't hurt yourself, Cap," he warns, but Connor can hear him trying not to laugh.

"Oh, fuck off." Ryan just beams at him and hops on the unclaimed bed near the door, kicking off his shoes and burying his face in the pillow. 

"Tired, eh?"

"If you'd been listening to Hallsy jaw off for two hours about food and some new hookup, you'd be tired too." Connor just laughs at him and slips off his shoes, climbing onto the bed and pulling out his phone. 

"Does this count as night yet?" Ryan lifts his head and stares for a few disbelieving seconds. "I mean-"

"It's nearly fucking 2 in the morning, what do you expect me to say?" Their flight had gotten delayed because of high winds and a blizzard warning in the Winnipeg area, but at least it's nice weather in Nashville. Cloudless sky with light winds is unanimously preferable to being nearly knocked to the ground by snow and sleet. 

_C: hey_

_D: whassup Davooooooo_

_D: kinda late eh?_

_C: flight got delayed cuz of snow_

_D: no excusez 4 nott txtin ur bestie_

_D: r u alone? ;)_

_C: shut up_

_C: and no, ive got nuge_

_C: what r u doing?_

_D: [picture message]_

_D: u like this crazy shit rite?_

Connor stares at the blurry photo for a bit too long, Dylan holding up some neon blue drink and letting his teammates crowd around behind him. 

_C: its not crazy or shit_

_C: but yea I like that stuff_

_D: knee it_

_D: **knewwwww_

_C: r u drunk?_

_D: lol noooo_

_C: sure_

_D: i sure!!_

_D: iknow when im drunk kay?_

_C: u r rite now tho_

_D: [picture message]_

_D: see????soberr af_

Connor's smile widens at Dylan's attempt at a straight face, Brinksy in the background sticking out his tongue with crossed eyes and a beer in hand.

_C: how do u guys even drink?? ur not even legal_

_D: SHHHHHHHHHH_

_D: THE PO PO R GONNA COME AFTER US NOW WTFFF_

_D: U KNO THE GOV SPIES ON US RITE???? CUZ THEY DO_

_C: oh my god_

_C: go to sleep and drink some water u crazy child_

_D: who u callin child??_

_C: someone who cant legally drink in their city. but like_

_C: whatever :P_

_D: fuck Canada_

_C: fuck America, you mean_

_D: fuck you_

_D: lol i wishhhhh hahahaha_

_C: wtf_

_D: lol jk i found someone 2nite_

_C: oooo who?_

Connor swallows hard and bites hard into his lip. Dylan wants to fuck him? No. What the fuck. He's just wasted. 

_D: some hockey fan i think_

_D: pretty sure he knows who i am tho_

_C: was that a typo?_

_D: what what typo what?_

_C: you said "he"_

_D: thats what i meant_

_D: wait shit :0_

_D: dont say anything omg_

_D: fuckin shit fuck whoops_

_D: pls pls pls dont say anything tho_

_C: who do u think i am?_

_C: im not gonna say anything_

_C: what the fuck dyls_

_C: i kinda wish u told me this b4 now_

_C: ive known u 4 a while now_

_C: but whatever_

_C: y would i ever tell my besties secrets tho?_

_D: ooooooooooo that makes it sound scandalous_

Connor sighs heavily, and Ryan turns to stare at him. "You alright over there? It's too early for a mid-life crisis." 

"I'm fine, just...tired." Lamest excuse in the books right there.  

"We all are, but we all aren't staring at our phones like they just killed our family pet." Connor finally looks over at him. Ryan's eyes are half open, but Connor knows better than to think he isn't fully aware of everything around him. He's deceptive like that. 

"Just...stupid friends." Ryan rolls his eyes and settles further into the blankets covering the bed. 

"Tell me about it." 

_D: DAVOOOOOOOOOO_

_C: omfg WHAT_

_D: miss u :((_

_C: ik_

_C: miss u 2_

_C: gotta go 2 bed, we r all exhausted_

_C: have fun, be safe, drink water_

_D: thnx mom_

_C: welcome_

_D: love uuuuu <333 :*_

_C: :*_

Connor rolls over and sets his phone on the bedside table. He stares at Ryan's peaceful form for a few seconds, wondering if he should wake him.

Nah. He'd rather not get reflexively punched. 

• 4 •

"Dude," Dylan says when Connor first picks up. He knows what Dylan looks like from a picture he sent after he woke up. Dark bags under his eyes, a new bruise on his wrist, and a sense of hopelessness in his dull eyes. 

"You okay?" Connor blurts out, the first thing that comes to mind. "I mean, like-"

"I feel like shit and look even worse, if that's what you mean." Connor frowns and stays silent. "I know, I know..."

"You don't need me to take care of you," he says. 

"I know, but I just...Davo it's not the  _same_ without you here. No one knows me like you do."

"Well, they're not mind-readers, so you gotta help them out. Dyls, you can't-"

"I know you can't be my only friend but you're the only person I want and I miss you so fucking much and-and you're off tearing up the NHL and you're so good and everyone loves you and my team doesn't even _want_  me, they don't think I can be good without you."

"But you've been so great without me - you know it, I know it, everyone does," Connor tries, drumming his fingers against his knee. He's squished up against the window in the back of the bus, talking quietly so as not to make anyone too grumpy.

"Davo-" Dylan swallows hard. "I miss you, Connor. I can't say it enough. I-I know I'm kinda still drunk and whatever and my head hurts like a motherfucker and all but like-"

"I know, Dyls," Connor interrupts. "I know."

"No, you don't!" He exclaims after a moment. "You don't know how it feels to be in someone's shadow or to have problems fitting in, you've never known rejection - Davo, I-" 

"Dylan." He hears Dylan snap his mouth shut as he huffs. "I'm supposed to live up to all the hockey greats, everyone calls me the "Next Gretzky" and shit - but I'm not. I'm me." He knows Dylan wants to interject, so he continues quickly, "And don't say I've fit in perfectly with every team, cause that's a fucking lie." Connor lowers his voice to just above a whisper. "Not every Oiler is okay with their captain being bisexual." He's found it best to be blunt with Dylan, but right now, it may not be his best decision.

"With you being fucking _what_?" Dylan shouts, and Connor winces. He probably should've said something when Dylan let it slip. "You're _bi_?" Although...

"Thought I'd made that pretty clear on social media." Connor's tone is low but icy. "Well, more like a teammate pretty much outed me on national tv, but you know. Social media." Dylan gulps.

"I had no idea."

"You're an idiot."

"Still love you, Daver," Dylan teases weakly, but it's no longer funny. It never really was to Connor. "You know this doesn't change anything, really." 

"Talk to you later." 

• 5 •

Connor can hear the sounds of his teammates shouting at one another as he speeds up the ice past Stecher, another Canuck coming up behind him and reaching around. Connor rips his arm away from Edler, trying to move closer to center ice, crossing his feet over one another. One more step to the left and he's slipping on a stick blade and crashing to the ice.

The crowd cheers, but the whistle is immediately blown as the ref points aggressively to center ice. Boos rain down, and Stecher's busy protesting that it wasn't a breakaway.

The ref promptly ignores him, sets the puck at the center dot, and nods to Connor. The second he hears the whistle, he takes off, swerving back and forth in a serpentine pattern, letting his feet confuse Miller as his hands work the puck from side to side. Miller lunges once he's close enough, but Connor just toe drags around his sprawled form and skies it into the empty net.

"You're a goddamned miracle," Dylan laughs later that night. Connor picked up the call on the first ring, something he's actually pretty proud of. Dylan also doesn't seem to remember that Connor came out to him, so that's another plus.

"Nah, just targeted. Kinda luck too, I guess."

"Luck doesn't make you the best hockey player ever," Dylan insists. "No offense to Sid, but like, you're so dope."

"Don't really think he'd care about anyone's opinion at this point," Connor grins.

"Wish you could show me how to make a Bloody Mary."

"Look online, it's not that difficult to make anyway."

"Did you hear about how bad I pranked Brinksy the other day? Put shaving cream on his pancakes instead of whipped cream yesterday." Connor just shakes his head in disbelief, crossing his ankles as he leans on the wall outside the bar.

"Not very nice of you," he says.

"Didja expect me to put it on a silver platter for 'im?" Dylan shoots back, a smile in his voice. "Oh, Davo, you've got such silky mitts, you're so good at hockey," Dylan says with a giggle, and Connor can't figure out what they're supposed to be talking about. 

"I don't think you need anything more to drink, Dyls."

"No I - I need something else, I wanna-"

"Dylan."

"Hm?" 

"Chill out with the drinking, okay? I like that you call me all the time, but I love it even more when you're sober," Connor explains. "Would you do that if I was there?"

"Probably. Maybe. I dunno. I don't think so?" Connor sighs heavily and switches the phone to his other hand.

"Listen, Dyls, you're wonderful, but just cut down on the alcohol consumption, 'kay? Think of your liver."

"I'll do it cause I love you," Dylan giggles, drawing out the last two words. Connor can't help the tightening in his chest that always comes with this. He can't help the fact that Dylan's unwittingly made Connor so in love with him that he can't think of anyone else. 

"Good." 

"I'll be a good boy!" Dylan shouts, a thump on the other end of the line as he trips over his own feet. "I'm fine!" Connor only laughs and says,

"Just don't kill yourself, alright?"

"Scout's honor!" Connor rolls his eyes and wonders how he ever became friends with such a crazy yet adorable crush.

Nope. Nope. _Best friend_. Best friends, that's what they are. Dylan never really means anything he says while drunk, so it shouldn't mean anything to Connor either.

• + 1 •

"What the actual fuck, Dyls?" Connor complains, phone between his ear and the pillow as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. 

"Just wanted to check up on ya." 

"At fuck o'clock in the morning? I'm fine. Just wanna sleep more than four hours at a time."

"Aww, c'mon, you know you love me." Dylan's voice is a little slurred, and Connor asks warily,

"Are you drunk?" 

"Nah, just sleepy," Dylan says with a weak smile. There's a thump on Connor's door, and he jumps. 

"Who the fuck-"

"You should open the door," Dylan interrupts.

"How'd you know?" Connor asks, sliding out of bed into his worn blue slippers. "What if it's a murderer?"

"I don't think he is."

"Who the hell did you send to my door?" Dylan doesn't answer, and there's another knock. "Hold on, I'm coming."

"He's probably getting impatient," Dylan laughs. "And disappointed that you're not as fast off-ice are you are on it."

"Oh, fuck off." Connor twists the lock and opens the door, nearly dropping his phone at the sight. 

"Hey, bestie." Connor presses end call without looking as Dylan flings his arms around him.

"Can't believe this," he laughs. "Why'd you visit me?"

"I missed you so much, Davo. So damn fucking much." Connor grins so widely his cheeks hurt, arms tightly wrapped around Dylan as they stand in the doorway. "You smell good, by the way."

"Thanks, bud," he laughs. He lets go, Dylan's arms now around his neck as he pulls them both inside and reaches around to pull the door closed.

"I missed you," Dylan says again. "Like, a _lot_."

"I know. I missed you too." His fingers lace around the back of Connor's neck as he stares down at him. Connor doesn't think he'll ever get used to Dylan being taller than him.

"Like, I took my free days to fly out to see you, that's how bad I missed you." Connor grins stupidly back at him. 

"I know," he repeats. "I'm glad you came." Dylan suddenly realizes that he's only a few inches from Connor's face and goes to step back. Connor grabs his wrist, staring at him with his gorgeous doe eyes, and Dylan rushes out, 

"I wanted to tell you in person that I love you 'cause I didn't think you believed me when I was drunk 'cause I wasn't in my right mind but I knew what I wanted and I still want it and it's you." Connor is speechless, fingers still wrapped around his formerly bruised wrist.

"I love you, Connor, I know I do, and I'm sorry I freaked out when you came out to me 'cause you were totally okay with me telling you I'm into guys and I know you totally deserve better but like - I don't want you to deserve better 'cause I want you all to myself and it's greedy but I don't care 'cause you're my best friend and I want everything." Dylan seems to be waiting for Connor to interrupt, but he has no words to even _begin_ to express anything, so Dylan just barrels on.

"You're practically perfect and I've always wanted you but you've had beautiful girlfriends for as long as I can remember and I've been jealous and every time I told you I loved you it was true."

"Stromer." Connor hasn't used that nickname since Erie, and Dylan shuts up immediately. "I love you too, okay? I don't need you to explain why. I don't care why, all I need to know is that you do. And I do know."

"I can prove that I can be a good boyfriend, I'll be the best, I'll be your favorite," Dylan says eagerly, cheeks reddening as he realizes what he's said. "I mean, uh-"

"You're already my favorite." With that, Connor stands on his toes and presses his lips to Dylan's in the sweetest kiss he's ever had. Connor could say the same. 

"My god, I love you so much," Dylan murmurs against his mouth, hand still gripping the back of Connor's neck. "I can't believe I get to say it all the time - I love you, I love you, I love you." Connor giggles into his parted mouth, kissing him again, more fiercely this time. 

Connor groans at the slick feel of Dylan's tongue in his mouth, hands sliding down to grip his hips and bring him closer. Dylan makes a soft sound and presses Connor into the wall, pulling back and tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. He's panting as he looks over his work, Connor's parted lips red and swollen, spots of pink high on his cheekbones and hair falling over his forehead. 

"So pretty," he says without thinking. "All mine."

"Who says I'll let you top?" Connor grins, and Dylan goes right back to making him crazy. 

 

• • •

 

> **@mcdavid97** : That feeling when your best friend flies out just to say hi. [instagram selfie of Dylan hanging onto Connor's back, both of them with slightly obvious red lips and huge smiles]

**Author's Note:**

> I love reading this pairing, but idk if I'm the best at writing it. Leave any thoughts below as to which ship I should do the most. :)


End file.
